}i{

Since finishing my lunch thirty minutes ago, I’ve been humming that song, “Turning Japanese“, only I’ve changed the lyrics to “I’m turning veg-tarian. Yes, I’m turning veg-tarian. I really think so.” I know my year and a half year old, Cali (the only other person in the house) has no idea what I’m singing or even why I’m doing it but I laughed. At least I find humor in myself. I think it’s a coping mechanism to being a SAHM. It’s either humor or insanity. I choose humor.

My friend invited me to join her routine of a weekly Sprouts visit a few weeks ago and I’ve really enjoyed going. Not only have I saved money on produce but I’ve also been introduced into a new world of delectable consumption. I’ve decided to try one new thing, or several, every time I go there. Today, it was pita bread and artichoke hummus. I had that along with some dried apricots, an avocado (with Lawry’s seasoning) and a glass of water for lunch. What am I, a hippie?! I’ve gotta say, though, along with patchouli oil, those hippies have something going with what they’re eating. Boy, was it delicious! I pondered coming out of the closet and declaring myself a vegetarian (I know I’ve always been one, at heart) but that lasted, oh, about ten seconds. My memory flashed an image of Cypher, from the Matrix, chomping on a juicy prime rib and that was all it took to get my BP racing and my mouth watering and repeating his line, “Ignorance is bliss.”

Beating Heart

Hopeful Future

What could be better?

I couldn’t fall asleep tonight because I started thinking that Jase snowboards goofy, which is a mirror to me, and it would be awesome to snowboard down the hill while mirroring each other, holding hands. Wow, that would be beautiful.

Then I started thinking about how I love watching Ice Dancing (partners ice skating) and began to wonder if that has started yet with snowboarding.

So, what did I do?

Yes… I googled it.

Sadly, I did not find this idea on Google or YouTube.

Let’s start a trend and get it into the 2010 Olympics.

I used to be a volcano as a teen. No, not a *real* one… But I was a ball of angst just waiting for the opportunity to explode on someone. It was not pretty. I picked fights and fought and won and lost and was looking for a chance to give someone else the pain I’d been feeling for years. Subconsciously, I think I may have felt I was healing myself. I wasn’t. It only made life worse.

My home life growing up was also like this. Each one of my family members was a ticking bomb just waiting for the opportunity to wail on someone. We fought with each other, friends, strangers, anyone to get our mind off of our own pain and turmoil.

I gave my life to Jesus at the end of 1996. I’ve spent every year since, trying to reroute the anger I had, into compassion and empathy. I’ve had to come to an understanding about humanity that “they know not what they do”. I’ve had to remember that the decisions that people make are more about a spiritual warfare than a personal attack against me. It’s been twelve and half years since I’ve physically fought anyone, twelve and a half years since I’ve tailgated someone for miles after cutting me off on the freeway, twelve and a half years since drinking and drugging my anger away. Twelve and a half years of thinking that my anger was a sin.

I got angry last night. Truly angry. Angry to the point of tears and pulling off into a grocery store parking lot just so I could organize my thoughts into something coherent. So angry that I wished I had some Metallica blaring on my radio to headbang my mind into clarity. So angry that when I passed by a cop, I literally wished him to pull me over. What? I know, I have no idea where that thought came from. I seriously think the anger brought me back to a mentality from my teenage years, when getting pulled over was not only a fear but a thrill, a challenge to overcome.

Well, my wishful thinking came true. I was pulled over. I was so angry that when I passed by the cop, I didn’t notice him pull in behind me and stay there as we both were stopped in a turn lane. We turned and the red and blue lights came on. For a moment, a million thoughts engulfed my brain and panic swept over me. Was I in an area that I could pull over and still be seen by the rest of humanity if this cop tried to harm me or kill me, like *that* cop in California? Would he be like the cop that contacted one of my female family members to date her after he pulled her over? I’ve been taken advantage of WAY too many times to just be calm when needing to fall under the authority of some strange man on some dark road, alone, at night. It turns out my tags, and the insurance card I had, were expired. Thankfully, both were confirmed as being renewed.  However, that didn’t really calm the feelings that arose from the fact that I’ve been traumatized by men. Being put in that situation, out of my control and not as a result of anything I did, made me angry. Feeling like that and letting those feelings get the best of me, made me angry. Beyond what words could even illuminate.

I’m frustrated at things that came to light, last night, in our youth group. Angry that depression is so debilitating. Furious that the enemy is reminding me that he fought and won a battle with my friend sixteen years ago. Frustrated that people can speak to youth about the youth’s lives and when the word “you” is spoken to them, the speaker is looking at a clock. I’m irritated that I fell victim to thinking change is bad. I’m frustrated that I’m thinking the wall around my heart should be built up again, to protect me from more people in my life leaving and it causing me pain and to start over again in building relationships.

I’m tired of starting new in relationships. I’ve been doing it my whole life. I don’t like moving away, I don’t like people leaving. I’m realizing that I may embrace change, just not when it involves people. I want stability in relationships. I want stability in the lives of the youth that I mentor. I want stability in love and life.

I’m going to fight to bring that stability and sustain that stability. I refuse to lay down and surrender.

I’ve been a fighter my whole life. I’m just on the other side of that battle now.

The winning side.

“Run in such a way as to get the prize.”

}i{

What a day.

After a full day of singing at church and then going to a Christmas Party, it’s 4am and I just got home. Call it Mother Bear syndrome, call me a good friend, call me a meddler, I don’t care, I felt in protection mode tonight with a married male friend. A Jezebel-like woman has been eyeing him for a long time and I wasn’t down with her hanging around making googly-eyes at him until 330am, while his wife was at a friend’s house caring for two little girls while their mom was in the ER. I don’t know what makes me think I really solved anything tonight. She sees him more often than I do and if something is going to happen, then I can’t do anything about it. It just pisses me off to feel like I’m watching the making of an adulterous relationship that could sever the bond between my two friends. In a way, I feel like if the tables were turned, then I’d want a friend of mine to do the same for my husband and our marriage. There are too many skanks just ready to jump on men that have made a commitment to another woman and if I can prevent that from happening, especially to a friend, even if for ONE night. I will.

Maybe my day of singing tomorrow won’t be affected by all of this when I wake up in 3 hours…

Most of the time when I lay down to go to bed, I toss and turn (sometimes up to an hour or more) as I try to coax my brain away from non-fiction to fiction.

The other night, after about the bazillionth time of me and Jase laughing and telling each other to stop talking and go to sleep, I thought of this:

Did the word “delete” exist before computers?

That really sent my mind whirling as I pondered the existence of the action of “delete”.

So I asked Jase and we talked about it for a while.

We came to this conclusion: Yes, “delete” did exist before computers as I remember using the delete key on a typewriter. However, it was an endangered word due to it’s near lack of existence. Before typewriters, I highly doubt the word was even a twinkle in Merriam-Webster’s eye.

Although when I just googled, “invention of delete” (cool title for something), I found this and being close to suffering from OCD when it comes to spelling, I nearly had a heart attack. Then I read the comments and saw the category it was under. Interesting read, just the same though.

Every now and then, I get in a rut. It’s odd how it always follows an amazing day or set of days. Life seems bleak and for some reason, communication with anyone becomes scarce to nil, on their end as well as mine.

Today is one of those days.

I try not to look in the mirror because there are too many things wrong with the reflection. Loneliness heaps up on me like a ton of bricks as two of my kids are in school and my 1 year old is sleeping. The house is quiet and the bottle of wine in the fridge seems extremely tempting. I feel exhausted and worthless and would rather curl up on my bed and sleep all day than clean the kitchen, living room, bathrooms and bedrooms.

I worry and think a little too much about life on earth after my death or the death of my loved ones.

It’s a really scary place to be.

I would find myself in these places a lot more frequently as a teen and would self-injure, get drunk or high to get through it. Suicide was a frequent thought when Jase and I lived in the South for two years. Now I just don’t do anything when sadness kicks in and I think way too much. Sometimes I end up just surfing around online for hours on end, like a zombie.

Blame it on hormones, the devil, being a stay-at-home mom (with little to no recognition for hard work), God’s testing, lack of faith/prayer/joy, lack of sleep, talking about my past with others, or the normal strain of life… and the darkness is still there. It doesn’t matter where it stems from.

Oddly, sometimes I like being in this place. I’m comforted with the normalcy of pain. It seems a lot more real to me than joy. I’ve seen way too many fake people being nice or happy than fake people being sad or angry. It’s strange to me how much more real of an emotion this is than my usual joy.

Sometimes these moments pass in a day and other times it takes a week or two.

It’s a struggle just to find things to be happy about. Things that are normally funny to me don’t even make me crack a smile. I struggle with not letting the trauma I’ve put on myself, the fear of being a failure, or the pain that others have inflicted on me, overwhelm me completely.

It’s in times like these that I am so grateful to have children, am married and am a mentor. There have been times where I’ve curled up in a ball, neglecting my children, in my closet, and cried my eyes out in their presence and times where I’ve locked myself in my bathroom and just sat in a corner and bawled while trying to get suicidal images out of my head. There have also been times when I’ve thrown things and screamed, at the top of my lungs, at Jase.

Even so, they still love me. In the mistakes that I make and the pain that I cause, they still love and accept me.

Simply the fact that I have people and innocent children loving and depending on me helps me fight stronger and better.

I’ve heard it said that people should not depend on others to get them out of their depression, but I do. Of course I depend on God, first, but I don’t know where I’d be without Jase, our kids and the many other people that have shown me love.

The good memories, laughter and fun times sustain me.

Now, to just be able to stay focused on that…

**Clarification: After doubting that I had actually thrown thing”s” at Jase, I discussed this with him and we really only have ONE recollection of me throwing something at him. Readers, there is no need to fear because (after being married for 10 years and moving 11 times) not only was it a one-time throw but it was a plastic bowl and… it missed him and hit the wall. So, rest assured. **